


Keys to the City

by Whitefox



Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Alliances, Battle Ground spoilers, Book 17: Battle Ground, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, Speculation, more or less canon levels of flirting, which is already just...so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:01:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26963347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whitefox/pseuds/Whitefox
Summary: Set immediately post-Battle Ground, so spoilers ahoy!  Marcone meets up with Harry later to hand off the actual keys to the castle, and they have something of a midnight heart-to-heart.
Relationships: Harry Dresden/Johnny Marcone
Comments: 25
Kudos: 109





	Keys to the City

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve resisted writing for these two for…what, like a decade now? But here we are. The amount of banter and character growth in Battle Ground finally did me in. This was a ton of fun to write, and I hope someone else enjoys it too!

*

Later that night, I found myself wandering back to the castle.

I couldn’t really say why. Dinner with the Carpenters had been nourishing to my soul in all the best ways, in ways I had honestly desperately needed after the last week. It left me feeling steadied and warm, even after that horrible discussion with Mab. But now Maggie was asleep and the rest of the Carpenters were turning in and I found myself wanting to be in a space of my own for a while. To think, and to…

Well. Maybe I just wanted to reassure myself that there was _something_ I could still control in my life, even if was just the ability to wring petty favours from Marcone.

So of course that was when I discovered the keys didn’t work.

“Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me.” For a strange moment I missed my old, sturdy office phone. I needed to yell at Marcone, and I needed to do it _now_. 

But after the night I’d had, the rage puttered out fast and became just one more thing that was stacked against me. The front door was open – I hadn’t bothered to lock it on my way out or I would have noticed the fake keys – but I sunk down on the front step anyway as if the lack of a key was some impenetrable block to entering the place.

I knew I was sulking, and I didn’t care.

I’d had a bad night, all right? And a really bad week before that. I’d been doing my best to be a Proper Adult through the whole thing and, well, if you couldn’t let yourself go and have a childish sulk now and then, when you were alone in the dark and locked out of your own castle by a scumbag mob boss, what was even the point?

I’m not sure how long I sat there – too long, probably – before I became aware of light, precise footsteps from inside the castle. A moment later the door pushed open at my back, and I was forced to stagger to my feet and do my best to look like I hadn’t been lurking outside like the homeless person I sort of was.

There was only one person it could reasonably be.

Marcone stood there in the gloomy doorway, wearing a suit fully as expensive and immaculate as the one he’d been wearing to the Executive Ministry, and holding a small black tactical flashlight in one hand, casually cast toward the floor. But where he’d been buttoned up tight at the Ministry meeting, wearing his suit like some other heavyweights wore battle armor, now his jacket hung open, his tie was nowhere to be seen, and the first several buttons of his crisp white shirt were undone. I’d seen him in a surprising variety of states of undress in the last week, but somehow this hit me harder than any of them. This looked like a man who’d deliberately lowered his defenses, not in service of some goal, but simply because he could; someone coming home after a day on the front lines, who could now be certain of safety and friendly company.

And here he was, looking like that in _my_ castle. Where he had to expect to run into me.

Was I friendly company now to Gentleman John Marcone?

“You’re staring again, Mr. Dresden.”

I jerked, and found him smirking at me, looking as smugly self-satisfied as I’d ever seen him. I straightened with as much dignity as I could manage to scrape together and tried to remember why I was mad at him.

Oh, right.

“Shut up, scumbag. You broke our deal.”

“I did not.” Still smirking, he fished in his jacket pocket for a moment and came out with a large metal key and a keyring filled with what must have been ten or fifteen smaller ones – to inner doors, or safes, or who knew what else. He handed them both over easily when I made grabby hands at him. “Your real keys, Sir Dresden. I don’t believe Ms. Raith or the Winter Queen were ever mentioned in the terms of our arrangement.”

I eyed him suspiciously as I wasted no time in trying the big metal master key. “She said she convinced you. Above board, plenty of witnesses, yadda yadda. No opportunities for punching or making out with the big bad Titan-slayer.” The key turned in the lock and I felt the solid, reassuring clank of the mechanism engaging. Some of the tension drained out of me.

He arched an eyebrow at me, as if disbelieving that those words had really just come out of my mouth – which, fair enough. Sometimes I could hardly believe what I was saying too. To my relief though, he passed over the low-hanging fruit. “Does that really sound like me? Plenty of witnesses, but none of my own people? As if I’d trust Lara Raith to ensure that I kept my word.” He favoured me with a sharp, shark smile. “And surely you know by now that I never pass up any opportunities.” I scoffed, but he just kept smiling and moved aside, pushing the door open wider. “Well? Didn’t you want to come in?”

I narrowed my eyes at the way he was literally _holding the door for me_ , but he didn’t budge and it began to feel like a dare. I sniffed and stalked through, doing my best to act like such favours were beneath my notice. The castle’s interior wasn’t quite as pitch-dark as it had seemed from outside, thanks to the moonlight filtering through the massive hole in the ceiling, but I still sent a thread of will through to my amulet. The soft blue glow filled the large hall and made everything a bit easier on the eyes.

Marcone’s quiet footsteps followed me in.

“So what are these actually for?” I asked, holding up the old, _fake_ keys. I didn’t look back at him, but I could easily imagine his careless shrug in response to that.

“An empty storage container. Hardly worth Ms. Raith’s time if she tried anything with them.”

I didn’t bother to ask if _he’d_ tried anything with the real keys, and I knew he was probably noting my silence. We both knew he would keep his word. It was getting him to give it in the first place that was the challenge. “Why bother to give her anything in the first place then? You could have come along during the day. The last time we hung out without witnesses didn’t exactly end well for you, after all.”

Marcone actually rolled his eyes, and I could tell I’d gotten to him at least a little bit. Still sore about losing the castle then, no matter how well he was covering it. “Please. I think our track record goes back a bit farther and tilts a bit more in my favour than that.” There was a thoughtful pause. “Ms. Raith and the Winter Queens were clearly plotting something. I thought it best to absent myself from whatever internal Winter politics were about to blow up in your face.”

I snorted, my mood dropping at the reminder. “My hero.”

He grinned at the callback and gestured at the stone walls around us. “I have given you a literal castle, Dresden. What more do you want?”

“Oh, you know.” I wandered over to a wall and leant back against it, staring up at the stars through the shattered ceiling. “Sometimes a girl just wants to feel special. Some quality time between all the Titan-slaying and castle-gifting. Some flowers. A castle that doesn’t rain on the inside. You know, little things.”

I heard his quiet chuckle as he came over to lean against the wall beside me. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

A surprisingly easy silence settled over us. It would have been even easier if I hadn’t been far too aware of exactly how close he was in the near-dark. If I raised my arm just a little, I would touch his side.

Despite what most everyone who knows me would have you believe, I’m not completely oblivious. This thing with Marcone was getting a little weird. It seemed like fate, or the gods, or maybe just Marcone himself had decided that every interaction we had would carry him a little farther from ‘obvious enemy’ territory in my mind, and the more time he spent firmly in the ‘ally’ camp….well. 

We had always had this easy banter, as addictive and fun as it was infuriating, but these days it was edging dangerously close to blatant…well, flirting? There wasn’t really any other word for it, even I could see that. It was more than a little unsettling when I stopped to think about it, especially because I had no idea if or to what degree each of us might mean it. Even more unsettling, I wasn’t sure I could stop doing it even if I tried. It wasn’t like I had set out to banter with Chicago’s mob boss that first day when he car-napped me. It just…happened, just like it kept happening. And I had no clue where it might be going. So I mostly didn’t think about it. 

Why was he even here? Handing over the keys, sure – but he could have done that any time after I discovered the first set was fake and came raging at him. Even if he’d wanted to do it tonight, he couldn’t have known I would be here at all – the Carpenter’s house would have been a safer bet to track me down. Unless he had someone watching the place? Or maybe he just wanted one last look at the maze of spellwork laced throughout the ancient stone. I know I would.

None of that explained why he was _still_ here, though. He couldn’t be having his own long dark night of the soul, could he?

…Nah.

I sighed and let my head fall back against the stone with a thump. It was strange, actually being able to see the stars at night in Chicago. Say what you like about apocalypses - apocalypae? They sure did wonders to clear out the smog.

“I’m sorry,” I found myself saying suddenly, again without thinking. “Uh, about Hendricks. He…” I considered and discarded a half dozen ways to finish that sentence before realizing I really didn’t know enough about their relationship to step any further out onto that ice. “I wish I’d been close enough to help. I’m sorry.”

Marcone merely nodded. If he was going to show any signs of grief, he would clearly be doing so in private. “As am I for your Ms. Murphy. Our city is poorer for her absence.”

Ouch. Sometimes I would almost forget, for whole minutes at a time, and then remembering was like having it happen all over again for the very first time. So I just clenched my jaw and mirrored his nod.

And that brought to mind all the new, freshly awful things that had happened tonight. The words were out before I could help myself.

“Mab is trying to make me marry Lara.”

I’m not sure why I told him. Maybe I thought he was just hanging around to get the latest Winter gossip, and if I told him then he would finally leave. Maybe I would have blurted it out to anyone who stuck by me for long enough that night.

But I think the truth was a bit more complicated. Marcone was, as he always had been, the least of the evils on offer. Out of all the supernatural baddies at that Accords Ministry, he was the one I knew the best, and – stars and stones – the one that I had the most in common with. He was the one I could reason with. He was the one I – _gulp_ – trusted, as much as you could ever trust a snake. Problem was, my world was now full of snakes. And it felt suddenly important that someone else know what was going on, someone who – maybe, just _maybe_ – might be on my side.

Me, showing actual vulnerability to John Marcone? Hell’s bells. Just the thought was almost enough to give me a spontaneous stress ulcer.

It got his attention, at the very least. He straightened and cast a cool, calculating green gaze over me. It was one of his more intense looks. I tried not to fidget.

“Historically—”

“Oh, save it. I said the exact same thing to Molly, so I know exactly how helpful it is not.”

The corner of his mouth ticked up, warming that cool gaze just a bit. He seemed to be looking for something in my face. Eventually he must have found what he was looking for, because he nodded and leaned back against the wall.

“You know that I can’t be seen moving against another Accorded entity publicly,” he said, in a tone as neutral as if he was remarking on the weather. “But if I can do so while remaining within the letter of the Accords, you may call on me for aid.”

I couldn’t help it. I turned and gaped at him. 

He gave me a very unimpressed look and his tone dripped with that very familiar flavour of _how can you really be this dense, Dresden._ “Of course you’re going to part from Winter. Honestly, I’m rather disappointed that you haven’t done so already, though I suppose the allegiance did aid in the defense of the city, this time. Regardless, Winter has never deserved to have a piece of such power. I will rest easier when you are a free agent once more.”

I blinked at him, but the insults at least had left me feeling more on solid footing. “ _That’s_ something I never thought I’d hear you say.”

He shrugged. “I have more experience dealing with your particular brand of chaos than any of the others do. It will put me at a slight advantage. And I will want something in return.”

Of course. Here it comes. “I’m not marrying you either, you know.”

That got me a slight smirk, like I hoped it might. “I wouldn’t need to use a favour to get you to agree to that, Dresden.”

I opened my mouth to object, loudly, to _that_ audacity, but he steamrolled over me. There was no distracting him when he was about to demand a favour, apparently.

“I want you to consider a proposal. _Not_ of marriage,” he rushed to clarify with clear exasperation, seeing my mouth open again. “An alliance. On a personal level, between the Baron of Chicago and its Wizard.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. The way he’d said that sounded more than a little proprietary. “An alliance. Why? I’m not an Accorded entity. If I throw down with Winter, I won’t even be associated with any. The Council gave me the boot, or didn’t you hear?”

He shrugged with one shoulder, easy and careless. “For now. But unless I miss my guess, you’re finally starting to grow up and realize what’s necessary to defend this city. _Our_ city. It would be wasteful to continue to work at cross purposes to each other.”

“But an _alliance_ —”

“Would have to be informal until you acquire a position, yes. We would have to agree on terms and simply trust each other to stand by them, but our history seems to suggest that we wouldn’t be entirely hopeless at maintaining such an arrangement. You would of course have my signature whenever you felt ready to push for a title. And once you’re at the table, we can make the alliance official. The White Court is going to ally itself with Winter no matter what you do; it would seem prudent that we consolidate as well.”

I sucked in a very long breath. The amount of casual confidence he seemed to have in me was honestly intimidating. And surprising, although…maybe it shouldn’t have been. Marcone had always been one of the few people who had never underestimated me. And here he was, just assuming I would slip the collar of the Winter Knight like it was a given once I’d decided on it, and instead planning for what would come after.

Planning for the future. Huh. What a novel concept.

Could I really do this? Could I…by agreeing to this, I would essentially also be agreeing to make this journey, to walk the path Marcone had already walked. No more hiding behind the Council to get a seat at the big boy table. I would have to stand on my own two feet, for my city and the people who depended on me to be their voice.

But hadn’t I already decided to do just that?

Of course, this was still Marcone, and he was just as much a scumbag as he’d always been. I still hated so many of the things he did and stood for. Did I really want to enter into a full-on _alliance_ with a mob boss and Knight of the Blackened-freaking-Denarius?

I would still have to take him down one day, in all likelihood. One day he would push too far and I wouldn’t be able to call him back, and we would throw down. I couldn’t forget that. But for now…

When we’d called, the people of Chicago had answered us. Had given their lives for us. Both of us. And when I’d asked, he’d budged, and opened his doors to shelter them. He’d committed resources for rebuilding and humanitarian aid at my request, and he’d pushed others in the Ministry to do the same. That changed things. It just did.

So. The question became: did I want to commit to making myself a guardian of this city and its people, and enter into an alliance with the man already responsible for defending it?

Put that way, it didn’t seem like such a hard decision.

“I’ll consider it,” was what I said. No point letting him think he’d won right away, after all.

Of course, the scumbag seemed to just _know_ , regardless. “Good.”

“You’ve gotta promise not to get petty and torch the deal whenever I get one up on you, though. No matter how many castles it costs you.”

His expression turned slightly sour. “In the _extremely_ unlikely event that such a thing ever occurs again…yes. I suppose we will need to make allowances for some occasional…childishness.”

I grinned at him. I could tell he meant that to be a barb at me, but no matter what he claimed, I knew it applied to us both. It was one of my unending joys that I was one of the few people who could pull the Baron of Chicago right down into the muck with me.

“We can barely manage a civil conversation without punching each other on a normal day,” I goaded him, just a bit. “How in the world do you think we’re going to manage this?”

“Maybe we’ll need to start channeling that energy into other things, instead. As per Ms. Raith’s apparent suggestion.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. Was he really…?

He rolled his eyes so hard it must have hurt. “ _I_ don’t know, Mr. Dresden. But I’m willing to try.”

My suspicious stare didn’t waver. I eyed him where he was still leaning against the stone beside me, not even a foot away. Carefully, keeping a wary eye on him like you would around any deadly predator, I leaned sideways. Just a tiny bit. Maybe a few inches. Not enough to be noticeable in any other situation. But right here, right now, it was enough to close the distance between us. My shoulder pressed against his, the contact light as a feather, but the symbolism of it crashed so loudly into the quiet night that my ears almost rang.

Marcone registered the touch with an arched brow and a look that clearly asked what the fuck I thought I was doing. I just glared back, not giving an inch and daring him to object. If he really wanted his dumb alliance, then he had better get used to acting a bit more human, dammit. What remained of his humanity made him stand out from all the other bad options on offer, but if he lost much more of it, that could change. I wasn’t going to ally myself with anyone I didn’t have at least half a chance of pulling back from the edge.

After a long moment of making me feel like I was a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe, he seemed to gather as much. He turned away and let out a gusty sigh, giving every impression of being the most put-upon man on the planet. And then I felt a solid pressure push back against my shoulder, pushing me back upright so that I no longer felt like I was in danger of toppling over.

I grinned.

“Tell me you’re not going to demand a hug next, Dresden.”

“Oh, relax, scumbag. We’ll work up to it.”

He made a soft disbelieving noise, but when I cut my eyes over at him in a terribly covert glance, I saw he was smiling that warm, almost-human smile again. I might have stared a little. He might have noticed. 

But there were no witnesses, so you can’t prove a thing.

*


End file.
